Chapter Eighteen

A string of harsh storms and incessant rain made the whole wedding a muddy, undignified affair. Carriages lay abandoned in the road—wheels stuck in six inches of mud—a quarter of a mile from the church, hems were ruined, coifs were matted messes, and Danny couldn't have been happier.

Three weeks of waiting for the bans to be read was four weeks too long. She'd offered to elope on more than one occasion, but in this Percy would not budge, on the formal wedding or on spending the night together until after the contracts were signed.

Every night Danny sat up in bed, listening for a telling knock on her window in hopes Percy would relent in his ridiculous notions of chastity. And every night she fell asleep disappointed and unbearably aroused at the thought of him sneaking in and laying his naked body atop hers. Not even Charlotte's early wedding present—a scandalous book of erotic positions—made any difference.

If there was any question of Danny's impatience, there could be no misconstructions when she'd grabbed Percy by the lapels and planted one on him in front of her family, friends, and a red-faced vicar as they were presented as the Duke and Duchess of Grandfellow.

Danny had felt no shame rushing through the courses of their wedding dinner, and even less shame shoving her grin- faced siblings out the door before the moon had reached its apex in the sky.

And there had been no question of a lady's maid tonight.

Percy had laughed the entire way up two flights of stairs and into the master's wing when she'd taken his hand and dragged him behind her.

Danny tapped her foot, waiting for him to unlock the door, shaking with need. He'd dressed in a non-formal suit of grey moleskin that showed off his thighs and rear. Curls brushed back to reveal sharp cheekbones and piercing eyes. The man was a walking god. And he knew it.

She crossed her arms over her chest, not giving a fig for wrinkling the starched, white linen that came up to her neck, and refrained from snarling at him to forget the room. He could push her up against the wall and have her in the hallway.

His eyes danced in the low light. "In a hurry, love?"

How was he not ready to shred off her dress? All blasted day had been torture to remain civil and clothed. She snarled this time. "To get the awful ‘consummation' portion of this evening finished, yes."

All he did was smile: straight, white, dashing. Damn the man!

"Fine!" She ripped the veil off her head and threw it to the floor. "I want to be in bed with you, or on a rug, or on a chair." The way her stomach fluttered, and her legs trembled, she didn't care which.

His gaze darkened. "We've done the last two. My vote is for the bed this time."

At the word ‘bed,' Danny's core clenched. Swallowing a moan, she touched her breast through her dress and confessed, "I may not make it that far."

His fingers laced through her wandering hand, and he pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist, his eyes full of heat and humor. "Then come, my dear."

A click sound of the lock unlatching and the door opened.

And she attacked him.

Fabric ripping, buttons flung across the floor, Danny took weeks of sexual frustration out on the innocent wedding ensembles, not relenting until they were both down to their last articles of clothing and their ragged panting filled the silence.

Thankfully, Percy's maddening composure seemed to have finally snapped.

He cupped the back of her head and tilted her lips up for access, his grey eyes black in the low firelight. "I meant to be gentle this first time."

She nipped at his hand, not caring how she'd digressed into a rutting animal. "When I want gentle, I'll ask." She pulled back and released the clever drawstring at the back of her neck, holding the two ends closed with one hand.

Eyebrow cocked, he asked, "And?"

"I didn't ask."

She let go of the strings and her slip fell in a pool of satin at her feet, leaving her completely naked.

Percy muttered a foul oath and grasped the straining rod through his trousers like he'd done at the Crystal Palace.

But there'd be no teasing this time around.

She inclined her head, making herself clear. "That's mine."

He huffed a laugh and shook his head. "Now and always, my lady."

"Good." She wet her lips, remembering the velvety feel of him in her mouth, and somehow knew he'd feel even silkier inside. Wet need slipped down her thighs.

He watched her, his gaze raking hotly down her body, as if he could see the evidence of her body's desires.

She rolled her eyes. " Now would be nice." But she didn't wait for him to come for her.

Replacing his fingers with her own, she ran her thumb up his length, flicking open the snaps of his underwear as she went until the garment fell away, and he was full and hot and bare in her hand.

He hissed as she dropped to her knees and licked him root to crown.

Hand fisting in her hair, he guided her back to her feet and pressed a kiss to her shoulder, mimicking her earlier licking along the column of her neck. "Not tonight, darling. Tonight, I give you everything ."

Her legs quaked at his wicked promise. "You sure like taking your time."

"Anticipation heightens the arousal," he whispered in her ear.

Melting. She was actually melting. "I'm aroused already."

His fingers danced across her bare thigh, dipping into her soaked folds. He moaned and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. Those sinful lips spread a line of kisses across her jaw until they found the corner of her lips where he said, "Then follow me."

Shucking off his loose undergarment, Danny's attention went to the sculpted muscles of his backside as he led her to the bed in the corner, the top covered in black silk sheets.

He crawled atop the bed with predatory grace and rolled onto his back, his gaze expectant.

A moment of self-doubt took hold as Danny followed, her frame dwarfed by her virile husband, but Percy stopped her from lying down at his side.

"Straddle me," he said.

Danny's core tingled at the invitation, though her eyes and brain couldn't help interjecting upon seeing his wide torso. "My legs won't reach."

His smile was wolf-like as he grasped her by the hips and placed her legs on either side of his flat stomach.

The hot length of him pressed urgently against her back, delicious and demanding. Danny licked her lips again, but her mouth had gone dry. "Oh, look," she said, fighting a giggle of nerves. "They reach."

His cock jumped at her back and her giggle burst out. Mortified, she pressed a hand over her mouth.

Chuckling, Percy reached out and laced his fingers with hers. "You have complete control. Nothing will happen if you don't wish it."

Easy for him to say. "I don't know what to do." Her mother's talk over ‘a wife's duty' had been little better than a fish in a burrow reference, which Danny knew from all her reading was not habitually accurate.

Percy didn't laugh this time. Kissing her fingertips one by one, when he reached her thumb, he explained liberally, "My cock angles upwards like the curve of your finger. When you are ready, my cock fits inside and that curve will help stimulate muscles that will give you pleasure. When you are more comfortable and accustomed to me, different angles and positions will give you the same if not more pleasure."

Oh. Danny blinked at where his mouth currently demonstrated, taking her finger between his lips while his other hand played with the curls between her legs, leaving no question where those ‘muscles' that would be so pleasurable were located.

She'd never look at her thumb the same way again.

She nodded. "Okay, I'm ready."

He smiled gently and drew her down on top of him to press a kiss to her lips. "Guide me in, love."

Reaching between them, she grasped his cock and brought him to the juncture of her thighs. She shifted on instinct to find that angle he'd mentioned, ending up sitting upright and lowering herself instead of pushing back.

His tip stretched her wide.

The position left her legs trembling and her head light.

"Take your time." Percy's jaw clenched so hard, a muscle ticked in his cheek. "The first time will hurt."

Danny wouldn't voice how his warning egged her on.

She took in another inch or so of him, and the sensation was maddening. The anticipation left her hazy.

"Is this one of your illusions, Percy?" she asked, her body grasping and eager for more.

"Yes, my dear." Her eyes opened and fixed on his dark gaze. His fingers danced up her thighs, the rough skin adding another layer of sensation. "This is the greatest of illusions," he confirmed. "One that never need end."

And it felt that way.

She pushed down, down, endlessly down until she sat against his root. Pulling, pinching, the pain intensified, like a pinpoint blade buried in the depths of her body.

She came with a gasp, the power of it rendering her speechless.

And then he cupped her bottom in his hands and rolled his hips beneath her, hitting a spot that sent her over a second time, and a third.

The rolls turned to bucks, wilder and wilder until Danny lost count and consciousness of the movements and rode his powerful body through instinctual pleasure alone.

And she refused to ever stop.

*

The woman was so damn receptive.

Six orgasms. Percy knew he was an accomplished lover, but the sounds Danny made when she came... If there was a competition in the new Games of the I Olympiad for making one's wife come, he'd be a fucking medalist.

She was perfect lying in his arms, soft and warm and smiling a satisfied smile that had Percy's groin stirring. Noticing, she bit her lip and trailed her nails down his growing length.

Receptive and relentless, and he had the scratch marks to prove it.

He was a lucky, fucking bastard.

"Care to share another position , husband?" she asked, her nails scraping down to his sack. "That last one is my favorite so far."

Bent over the mattress, her tight rump in the air, her sheath had choked his cock with a grasp that could very well become addicting. Of the four positions they'd done, it was his second favorite. "Did you not care for your first ride?"

She bit her lip, and the sweetest blush spread over her cheeks. "I did."

"You can ride backwards as well."

If he'd hoped to darken that blush until her entire body flushed pink, he succeeded. What he hadn't expected was the glint of anticipation in her eye.

"Shall we do it now?"

Percy groaned. The woman was a warrior, of that there was no doubt, but even she had to have a limit. He kissed her nose and shook his head. "You should rest."

She glanced about the room. "Here? You meant it when you said we wouldn't sleep apart?"

"Yes." Percy swallowed, unsure why the thought of her retiring back to the duchess's chambers made him feel hollow inside. "If you want."

Her smile cast aside all doubts. Snuggling into the crook of his shoulder, she grabbed a handful of blankets and threw them over their naked bodies.

Noticing a chill in the room, Percy frowned. He hadn't thought to build a fire, or even shut the blasted door. They'd see how disciplined a duke's staff was in the morning and if any of the maids could look their master or mistress in the eye.

Danny didn't seem to mind any of it.

"This is cozy." She lifted his arm and draped it across her midsection as if he were yet another layer necessary for her comfort.

The thought had Percy warming from the inside.

"Be careful," she said, glancing up at him. "Smiling like that, your carefully honed mask of disdain will be ruined."

It wasn't all a mask, he thought, and the truth of it leached the growing heat from his body. His arm tightened around her body, drawing her close until they lay side by side, heart to heart.

But the distance between them would remain until he offered up everything.

"There are some things you should know about me before you decide to stay," he said quietly, despising how hard the words were to get out.

She laughed. "A little late now, Your Grace. What more must I know? You have a secret passion for tennis? You want a whole household of cats? Lord Pickles is still young. We'll find her a worthy tom and have kittens before spring."

He smiled at her light tone, praying the weight of his past wouldn't take that from her. His duchess didn't balk at his bed sport or his skills to fell a man in a dark alley. It was a leap of faith for him—a miracle in and of itself—to believe she wouldn't recoil at the rest of his unsavory life. "I lived on the streets before I went into the army."

Danny's expression turned serious, no doubt remembering their brief and unwelcome reception in St. Giles. "I meant what I said, Percy. You don't need to speak of it if you don't wish to."

He ran a hand through his hair. He'd never told anyone of the years after his father had died. They were ugly and unfit for innocent ears. But she had never scoffed at his admissions, never admonished his actions—after determining he wasn't a hardened criminal—and if she could offer unfailing loyalty to a fiend like him, then he'd return it in kind without cowardice. He wanted to tell her.

"I went to public school until I was eight," he said, unable to keep the nostalgia from his voice. Aside from the normal teasing between boys, the time spent trading off between school and his shifts at the local cotton mill was the happiest of his life, until now.

"My school in Southwark was behind the times, still using the old system to teach the younger kids with assignments from the older, but I knew my letters and numbers when I started at age five, and when the headmaster made me a monitor, I took pride in teaching my peers." He smiled, remembering. "But the best was when we'd be allowed time outside to play. The idea was ridiculous. Time to play? What did the school expect us to do? Of course, it wasn't long before the boys figured out increasingly hard games for us all to play."

Danny tilted her head up at him. "You learned football from the schoolyard?"

Percy nodded. "Those of us who'd only known work embraced the time to stretch our newfound brains and bodies. Some of the older boys had transferred from private schools, their families suffering setbacks. But they brought all kinds of games. Things for the older boys to try and the younger ones to imitate." He'd thrived on teamwork and strategy, easily showcasing his skills and earning a spot on the bigger boys' teams. It was in those few glorious years of youth Percy had known he'd been destined for something bigger than himself.

"Then my father died." His gut clenched, that same sinking feeling he had when he'd been told the fire had trapped dozens of workers in the factory. There'd been no more time for games or learning. It was all he could do to pass as an older boy and work longer shifts. But the fire that had taken his father and destroyed the textile mill had also displaced near a hundred other able-bodied workmen, men who'd been worth more to a cotton mill than a child half their size.

He skipped over the weeks of cold and hunger when he'd been dumped into the streets, unable to remember much except agonizing pain and fear. "I fell into a gang soon after, one that taught the skills I needed to survive."

The scars across his palms from where the other members had struck him with a switch until he could pick a pocket without a single brush of fabric was a reminder of how surviving didn't equate to living. But it was a lesson he'd taken to heart.

"I had a tough time. My father had raised me to know the difference between right and wrong. Those same older boys who'd been like brothers to me at school were now my targets."

"Oh, Percy." Danny clutched his hands, her expression a mixture of sadness and anger. "Did no one look out for you?"

Percy nodded, coldness creeping into his chest. "There was another boy my age, Nic. He'd been there a good year before me. He showed me how to use my size and brains to corner a mark without them realizing how the clever could outmatch the stronger.

"When the other members got frustrated with my conscience, that same boy stood up for me. He was my only friend." He paused, collected himself. "As soon as were able to pass as young men, we enlisted, stealing the stash the gang kept and buying ourselves commissions and setting off to camp before the rest were any the wiser."

Percy's fingers clenched into fists, the knuckles turning white. "What fools we were. We'd traded one battlefield for another. The things we saw, things we did, the blood of my enemies was in my hair, my eyes, my soul. That sense of wrong and right I clutched so diligently was lost in the trenches. We distinguished ourselves with the hard missions, taking the ones no one else wanted for bigger rations." His smile was self-deprecating. "A kid from the streets always appreciated food, if nothing else.

"We were recruited after the second Anglo-Marri War by a man who claimed he worked in the Home Office. He offered food, training, prestige, shelter. At first, we couldn't believe our luck." Percy shook his head. How naive they were. "They knew exactly what to use to make us comply." The only person he'd ever truly trusted besides Nic had been his handler.

Agents were asked to do unspeakable things, horrible acts necessary for the safety of their country in the name of patriotic loyalty. Percy had killed in the name of that loyalty: women and countless men. With every death on his hands, his soul had slipped farther and farther away until he had no longer been the one wielding the blade, gun, garrote, his bare hands. The method didn't matter. Only the body. He'd forgotten so many of the faces.

"I did what I was asked: murder, espionage, arson. We were an unstoppable force, but that didn't stop me from questioning. When I had doubts, I was commended. When I returned from a particularly bloodthirsty mission, I was given a medal. Now, I see the manipulation for what it was. But he—"

Remembering hurt like a knife to the gut. His friend, his comrade, his partner, with whom he'd shared hardship, fear, triumph, and valor. If Percy clung to the remnants of his rotting soul, Nic had lost his completely.

"Nic became a liability to the Office. He stopped caring about collateral damage, leaving a trail of bodies wherever he was sent. I castigated him repeatedly to take care. I wouldn't believe he was unreachable."

But it hadn't been up to him.

Percy had sunken so deep by that time, he hadn't blinked when the order had come. The coldness in his chest spread, leaving him numb. "His termination came down from the highest order. At the end of our current mission, I was to dispose of my partner."

Danny gasped. "Those bastards!"

The overwhelming chill thawed just enough for her outrage on his behalf to warm his heart. But the heat vanished upon his next statement. "We were in enemy territory when the missive arrived via our contact."

Deep in France, lying in wait to assassinate a local government official. Assassinations like those were not uncommon, but Percy had felt a nagging sense of misplacement even then. The Home Office didn't encroach on the Foreign Office's missions without explicit communication and designation of duties, all of which had been absent.

The politician hadn't been their usual type of target, and their vantage point at the Hotel Saint-Jacques had been far too conspicuous. But Percy hadn't questioned it. Preparing to kill his best friend, they'd settled in for their usual surveillance and Percy had acted, pulling his knife and sinking it into Nic's back.

The Second Bureau of the General Staff had interrupted. To this day, Percy had no idea if someone had slipped their location to the authorities, or if their luck had been rot that night.

"We were caught in the middle of our tussle, separated, and taken to a place with no light. I knew Nic would die without medical attention, and I was glad of it. Even my blackened conscience could be lightened by the idea I'd saved him from my fate."

How Percy wished Nic had died by his hand. For the monster that had risen back out of his friend's grave was a monster of his making. All the terror and bloodshed spilt since that night was on his hands.

"He wants my head," he finished simply. If the monster still lived, he longed for blood, Percy's most of all.

And Percy could not blame him. He'd deserved death many times over.

Even more reason Percy prayed Nic had found peace at the bottom of the river.

"Is he gone?" Danny asked, her expression open and achingly beautiful in the face of all his ugly truth.

There was no need to worry her. There'd been no sign of the bastard in three years. "He is."

Danny's fingers intertwined with his, her silent support overwhelming. "I'm sorry you lost your friend."

Percy laughed, though the humor was dark. "I stabbed him in the back, and you're sorry for me?"

"For what he meant to you." Danny lifted his hand and rubbed her cheek across his knuckles. "But you are not like him, Percy. No matter how much you wish to believe you're a lost cause, I've seen your kindness and passion. I've seen your sins eat at you. You're no more a monster than he was an angel."

Percy's heart gave a pang. She was a miracle, his wife, able to soothe the sharpest pains of his past with her indomitable spirit and goodness.

And he needed to be inside her now.

Rolling her on top of him, he grasped her hips and grinded into her core, feeling wetness slip against his cock.

Her eyes widened, but her smile was inviting.

She didn't object when he twisted her around so he could lightly spank her backside.

She moaned and grasped him at the root but held back.

"Mount me," he commanded.

He felt her shudder with her own need. "I thought you said to rest?"

He spanked her again, and her body shuddered in completion. He guided her down and sat up to tighten their position, whispering in her ear, "I'll rest when I'm dead."